That plastic thing in my toilet

It's broken. Whatever ever thingamajigger it is that is attached to the whatchamacallit is cracked. And so now, every single time I want to flush (which is EVERY time, thank you), I have to lift up the lid and hand-flush it.

This think broke over the weekend, as major useful appliances are wont to do. And since I live in an apartment, I'm stuck here, flushless in Florida, until the maintenance guy decides to roll his golf cart over to my crib and fix it.

Which sucks. Because if I owned the place, I'd go buy the stupid $2 whozit and put it in myself. But since I pay waaaaaaay too much rent, I'm not about to add $2 to my monthly total. I'd rather call the office red-faced every morning ranting irate. Cause I'm right, dammit. And I don't care if those people next door's A/C is broken and they're dying of heat exhaustion... I'm not down with the manual flush.

And while we're talking toilet, here's the story of Jack Schitt. A classic.